Dancing with Death
by chrysalizzm
Summary: Ichigo has finally returned to the Shinigami lifestyle he's always loved. But when a striking reincarnation of his most reviled enemy appears, Ichigo must try his best to make sure he doesn't follow the path his look-alike did, and all is not what it seems, for God is not the only puppetmaster pulling the strings. TEMP HIATUS!
1. Catharsis

Dancing with Death

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Catharsis

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. The manga belongs to Tite Kubo and publishers. The anime belongs to Tite Kubo and specified studios. This is a fanmade piece and I do not profit in any way, shape, of form from writing this story.**

 **Summary: Ichigo has finally returned to the Shinigami lifestyle he's always loved. But when a striking reincarnation of his most reviled enemy appears, Ichigo must try his best to make sure he doesn't follow the path his look-alike did, and all is not what it seems, for God is not the only puppetmaster pulling the strings.**

 **All right, let's clear things up first. NOT ABANDONING FLOWERS FROM HELL. I fully intend to continue it while writing Dancing with Death. The only reason updating FFH has been coming slow is because I've been expending all my resources on DWD.**

 **Yhwach ain't here cuz I planned out nearly half the plot before thinking about the Quincy arc, so no. Ywach don't exist in this storyline.**

 **This is rated T because there are a few, uh, suggestive references, but not enough to provoke an M rating. Ichigo's Hollow has really mellowed out, here. He might be a bit OOC. I'll try to keep him under control.**

 **Here's a list of terms you should probably know if you want to understand what is going on in this story, though not vital to it.**

 **The terms list is ripped off from NeoRyu777's "A Protector's Pride." It's the most amazing fanfiction ever in creation and you must check it out right now. NOW. No, no, stop scrolling, open a new tab, and READ IT. NeoRyu777, if you're reading this, I'm a ginormous fan of your Bleach fanfiction and I am flattered that you are even on this page, and I sincerely apologize for taking the terms from you.**

 **-san: means "mister" or "ma'am", something along those lines. It's meant to convey respect, or in the very least used when addressing someone of a higher status.**

 **-chan: is usually utilized when addressing someone younger than you and is a girl. It's either trying to make you feel cute, addressing you according to age, or demeaning you, k? It's usually for people you're close with. It's also used to tease boys.**

 **-kun: is usually utilized when addressing someone younger than you and is a boy. This one actually isn't trying to make you feel cute, it's more of just a fact, like "oh you're a boy younger than me. Hi *insert-name-here*** **-kun!" Again, usually for people you're close with.**

 **-sama: is a form of higher respect, like addressing a princess or a liege or something. Addresses both genders.**

 **-nii: means "big brother" essentially, and not always by blood, so like you have an older boy that you feel comfortable with and/or trust, this is the word to identify them. This can be combined with other honorifics, like "nii-san."**

 **-nee: means "big sister" essentially,** **and not always by blood, so like you have an older girl that you feel comfortable with and/or trust, this is the word to identify them. This can be combined with other honorifics, like "nee-san."**

 **-tou: means "father."** **This can be combined with other honorifics, like "tou-san."**

 **-kaa: means "mother."** **This can be combined with other honorifics, like "kaa-san."**

 **-jii: means "old man" or "grandfather." This can also be referred by someone not related by blood. Like the creepy old man living on the street corner smiling at you right now. That guy would be a "jii."** **This can be combined with other honorifics, like "jii-san."**

 **-dono: Uh... It means... Uh, it's kinda like how you address someone you respect on both a power level and a personal level. You know, like how Rukia addresses her superior and friend, Kaien, as Kaien-dono.**

 **-sensei: means "teacher." 'Nuff said.**

 **-taichō: means "captain." What'd you expect?**

 **-fukutaichō: means "lieutenant" and literally "vice-captain." I prefer lieutenant, honestly. It just feels right. Or better.**

 **Using surnames to address each other is disrespect or dislike, which is why Uyrū and Ichigo address each other as such. They're supposed "rivals," and they have an image to uphold.**

 **I'm going to cut the list off here because the original chapter here that I spent all night and morning on just deleted itself and I'm just too fucking irritated to give half a flying fuck at this goddamn point. Plus, it's going on eight hundred words. Dunno about you, but long spiels exhaust me.**

 **Without further ado...**

 **I humbly present...**

 **Dancing with Death!**

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"I-I don't wanna!"

"Goddamn it, stop bitching!" Yelled Kurosaki Ichigo, a sixteen-year-old high school delinquent and Substitute Shinigami with nearly inexhaustible reserves of reiryoku and brilliant orange hair. "Soul Society's a great fucking place with great fucking people like me, 'kay? Get going!"

Rukia, perched upon a branch nearby, smirked at Ichigo's consternation, highly amused. She would have helped him out with the konsô—there had been a car pileup thirty seconds north and they were the closest Shinigami around—but Ichigo could do it himself, and frankly, watching Ichigo struggle with the Plus souls was akin to watching pro comedy. At the pro's expense.

"But—" The Plus's retort was cut off abruptly by Zangetsu's cloth-swathed hilt thumping against his forehead. White energy swallowed him, sending him to Soul Society. All that was left as proof of the Plus's soul was a black swallowtail butterfly, a jigokuchō, flitting towards the sky. Ichigo sighed and heaved his meat cleaver of a zanpaku-tô over his shoulder, reminding Rukia of his first time in the Seireitei, fresh, young, and inexperienced, standing over the Sōkyoku and over her, with the intent to cut down the Kikō descending upon them as he had done several fukutaichō and taichō to rescue her from an unfair execution.

"S'that all?" Asked Ichigo, drawing Rukia from her memories. Shaking herself to rid the cobwebs of remembrance from her vision, she clambered up onto a higher branch, scouting down the street for a moment before affirming the negative and dropping back down neatly onto the ground, her petite form allowing for the swift ascent and descent of the slender limbs. "Looks like that was the last one. Only eleven Pluses this time around."

She moved into her gigai, inhabited by a starry-eyed Chappy, stumbling lightly as she returned before recovering, and shot an almost-approving glance at Kon, further away from the wreckage, loooking appropriately shocked and awed, though his eye was wandering dangerously towards the two skimpily-dressed teenage girls with more gold studded in their ears than a designer bag. When Ichigo had lost his Shinigami powers, Kon had retired to Urahara Shōten, hiding there, until Ichigo had returned to bring him back with a tentative "Yo." Kon had promptly launched himself at Ichigo's chest and cried all the way home, where Yuzu and Karin had to be brought up to date about the existence of Kon. Or Yuzu had to be in the very least; Karin, who'd hung around Urahara Shōten long enough to know who he was, only gave him a cool stare and went back to her bowl of udon.

To be fair, Yuzu shed just as many tears as Kon had on the return trip and begged forgiveness of him for treating him the way she had, rendering Kon speechless and unable to form a response, much to Isshin and Ichigo's entertainment.

Ichigo thumped his Substitute Shinigami badge against the back of his human body's head just as Kon looked like he was about to make a move on the two woman, his eyes trained on their long bare legs, and he slid into it smoothly enough to just make it looks like he'd staggered. Throwing one last look at the wreckage over his shoulder, he stepped away with Rukia to one of the smaller roads that led to Karakura. He cast another glance at Rukia. "You staying?"

Rukia made a noise at the back of her throat combined with a regretful look. "I can't, Ichigo. I was only here for a day for a gigai test run with Urahara, remember?" Ichigo honestly didn't remember ever discussing her schedule during the day, but between her spontaneous sketches and increasingly dismal drawing skills, he had learned that she was not to be trusted in conversation. Most of the time.

She exhaled heavily through her nostrils, then, brightening up a bit, said, "I'm off to Urahara Shōten to open a Senkaimon. Are you coming?"

Ichigo struggled with his conscience for a moment, then, reluctantly and with visible effort, shook his head. "I gotta go home. I can't leave Yuzu alone." His expression hardened. "Not after the Hell fiasco, not with her power."

Rukia felt disappointment pricking at the back of her mind before she shook it away, straightening. It was selfish of her to think that way; Ichigo should be allowed protect his sisters, taking into consideration Yuzu's budding reiryoku and history of being taken by Hollows. Rukia could take care of herself just fine, and besides, Ichigo needed more time to himself and his family after all that had happened.

She drew herself up to her admittedly still-not-so-impressive height and said, "I will be returning to Soul Society now. I shall see you in the near future. Good day, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo recognized the haughty tones she was utilizing, and the flat look on her face, and maintained his composure with a sweeping bow that left much to be desired and an equally regal "Good day, Kuchiki-sama."

The two walked away from each other, chuckling, lost in memories. Ichigo, rounding a corner, caught sight of both his house and his friends, and raised his brows. They looked like they were waiting for him; why else would they be hanging around at his doorstep?

Orihime saw him first, and waved an enthusiastic hand at him. "Hi, Kurosaki-kun!" The creamy gold-amber glow draping over Karakura Town and the warmth of the reishi-tinted air that he could practically _taste_ because of his Quincy blood made it too much effort to keep a frown in place, so Ichigo gave Orihime a small tired smile and a half-raised arm. "Yo, Inoue."

Uryū tilted his glasses, and they caught the light of the dying sky, making his eyes indiscernible behind the glass. Oh, how Ichigo hated that. It made him look infuriatingly mysterious and like he knew everything that was happening. Which wasn't true in the least. "He's got that sleepy tinge to his reiryoku again. Have you been performing konsô, Kurosaki?"

"Oh, yeah!" Said Orihime with that same marvelling tone in her voice that she always had. The dreamy look on her face shifted to one of concern. Using the tone Ichigo used when one of his sisters was sick, she asked, "Was it too bad, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ever since Ichigo had recovered his reiryoku, performing multiple konsôs taxed it badly, particularly because purifying a soul means chipping off bits of a Shinigami's own reiryoku and compressing it into the hilt of their zanpaku-tô to open a Senkaimon for a soul that's not their own, essentially fragmenting their reiryoku. This was the main reason why Shinigami that were seated officer-level and up did not perform konsôs, instead restricted to other, more trying duties; it was not worth leaving to the Human World to hand out free samples of their reiryoku when they could be in Soul Society, fending off Hollows. Ichigo, certainly, would eventually restore his bottomless pit of reiryoku enough to perform several konsôs without even batting an eye; however, at the moment, he was still recovering, and the konsô issue was a constant reminder of it.

Ichigo shot a glare at Uryū, who was doubled over in his monumental effort not to laugh and instead had opted for looking like he was suffering from a violent stomach affliction. Chad was looking away in a semblance of respect, but even his lips were twitching. Ichigo scowled— _damn it, Chad's betrayed me_ —then looked back into Orihime's wide gray eyes, and his expression softened. "No, Inoue. Just eleven, this time." He shuddered as he remembered the humiliating day in the duration of which he'd performed konsô on thirty-nine souls (there had been a fire in an apartment complex and the fire alarm hadn't gone off quickly enough) and the next day came down with a fever due to reiatsu exhaustion. Uryū had been the first at his incoherent bedside first to offer his condolences, then to gloat at him for falling after only thirty-nine Pluses. Ichigo returned the favor by chucking books at him the day after when Uryū was heading to school. He walked away gnashing his teeth, trying not to fall to his level and repelled from sniping the whooping teen because of Karin standing at the door, silently daring him to attack her older brother with her fiery eyes that nearly burned holes into his uniform.

He changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on his recovering reiryoku that brought bad memories with it. "Why're you guys standing in front of my house?" He asked casually, and out of the corner of his eye saw Yuzu standing at the door, peering through the frosted glass, trying to make out who was speaking to her brother. He waved her back inside, and she nodded doubtfully. Then, suddenly perking up, she raised the strangely brown ladle in her hand. He must have looked confused, because she giggled and mouthed, _Curry rice tonight._

Oh. It figured. Curry night was his favorite, because Yuzu's curry was killer. She made it better than the ninety-year-old tonkatsu restaurant down the street, and they actually agreed after tasting it.

"Urahara-san wants to see you," replied Chad, though his visible eye flickered to Ichigo glancing forlornly at his house. Ichigo seemed unable to catch a break these days. Right after the Fullbring Incident, a Hollow had demonstrated the ability to paralyze enemies (of course Ichigo found out the hard way); just a couple weeks after that, the Konsô Disaster, as they so charmingly dubbed it, had gone down; and recently, Ichigo had begun receiving unwelcome visitors at night, nightmares, even worse than the ones right after the Winter War, when he nearly decapitated his father when he greeted him with his usual flying face kick. Isshin was worried, Karin was stressed, Yuzu was fearful, and Ichigo, quite frankly, was going to pieces.

"We'll tell him you're unavailable," said Orihime abruptly, and Ichigo looked down at his suddenly fascinating shoes to avoid her gaze, which he was sure would be compassionate. He instead tried to look grateful, and he must have managed it, because Uryū's sharp expression softened and Chad's hand thumped down on his shoulder. As soon as their footsteps faded away, Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose, entering his house. "God knows I need a day to myself."

"Welcome back, onii-chan!" Said Yuzu cheerfully, waving from the kitchen doorway, her pink dotted apron waving in front of her.

"Hey, Yuzu," replied Ichigo, smiling, sweeping into the kitchen and pulling a soda from the fridge. "Smells great in here."

"I thought you'd like it!" Beamed Yuzu, puffing up at Ichigo's praise. Even though she received it every day, it was still nice to hear it. She then quickly turned serious with a stern "Wash your hands, onii-chan! Dinner's at seven tonight!"

"Uh-huh," he said, with a bit of a shiver. Yuzu could be pretty scary when she wanted to be; she'd inherited her father's sudden chill. He walked upstairs, tossing his coat on one of the chairs at the table, and kicked his door open.

" _EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_!"

"Holy shit!" Yelped Ichigo, pulling his foot back immediately, thinking that it was his door that had screamed. He gathered his scattered wits and, with some irritation, identified the voice as Kon's, and pushed into his room, where Kon was smashed against the window.

"Ichigo... Welcome back..." Said Kon weakly, and Ichigo clapped a hand to his forehead. "For God's sake, what the hell were you doing at the door?!"

"I was waiting for nee-san!" Shouted the lion plush, bouncing back immediately, using his eternal, border-worshipping nickname for Rukia. "Where is she, anyway?" He looked around Ichigo, who was tossing his bookbag onto his bed, then around the corner of the doorway, and threw up his stuffed arms.

"Where goes her lovely, glossy raven locks and pale snow-kissed skin?" Cried Kon dramatically, and Ichigo, from his vantage point at his desk, stared at him disbelievingly.

"Do you write love poems about her?" He asked incredulously. Kon, never one for being meek, nodded, jutting his rather flat, nearly nonexistent chin out under the scrutiny. "You're just like Keigo! One pretty face around and you're down for the count!" was evidently unexpected, and he wilted accordingly, flopping sideways in a swoon, with a faint "Don't compare me to the trash known as human males..."

This tragic scene held Ichigo's attention for perhaps half a second, taking into consideration the fact that Kon had melodramatic fits like this daily, even hourly. He then turned around, plucking a pencil from the cup at the corner of his desk and then hesitating, his hand pausing, hovering at the edge of the paper that was his homemade study guide (courtesy of Kunieda Ryō, who was a smartass anyway and insisted upon sitting there and teaching the class about subjects that holes in the educational system did not cover).

For just an instant, the pencil had felt strange, almost alien in his hand.

It took him a brief moment to place why; when he reached his conclusion, he dropped the pencil entirely and leaned back in his chair. Because of all his time in Soul Society, because of the long periods of time he'd spend there, Kūkaku and Yoruichi used to teach him how to write in the exquisite calligraphy that was the standard in Soul Society.

He was more used to a brush than a pencil.

 _That_ brought him up short. He hadn't been to Soul Society in ages, excepting the one trip during which he'd expressed his wish to bury Ginjō, and that trip had been five weeks ago. Excepting that accursed Kurumadani, the occasional visit from one of his friends, and Hollows, he never really had any spiritual contact.

 ** _Yo, King!_**

 _Good evening, Ichigo._

 _Well, besides them..._

"Hey, Old Man, Hollow." The last part was said a bit derisively, as he'd never learned the creature's name. Either the other hadn't bothered to tell him, or he just didn't have one.

 _ **Don't got one,**_ came the compliant reply. Ichigo wasn't used to the Hollow being this mellow, and he was always tense and on guard whenever speaking with him.

 _What, you want one?_ This had been a jab on his part, and later, looking back on it, he says that it was a bit cruel, but really, who was keeping score at that point.

 _ **"You want one?" No shit, Sherlock. Everything needs a name, right?**_ Ichigo was taken aback at that. It hadn't really occurred to him that his Hollow needed a name; it— _he_ was obscure in the very least, and didn't seem quite human. His emotions were veiled and Ichigo had the hardest time trying to relate to him.

 _Oh, you just gotta make it hard. Uh... What, Shiro?_ This earned him a sharp headache, and he winced, which was quickly followed by a loud _smack_ and an **_Ow! Shit!_**

 _Perhaps something with more layers, Ichigo,_ said Zangetsu peacefully. _Apparently "Shiro" is not to his liking, disregarding the simplicity of it._

 _Damn. How about Yuki—_

 _ **That's a girl's name, King! Jesus!**_

 _Let me finish!_ Snapped Ichigo, not really comprehending how strange it felt to argue with the occupants of his mind after the longest silence he'd ever known. _How about Nadare?_

 **Avalanche?** Repeated the Hollow caustically.

 _Oh, wait._ Ichigo pondered for a moment—most of the Arrancar and Hollows he'd encountered had names in Spanish—and before he knew it, he was perusing his second language dictionary with an annoying clicking sound in his head that could only be the Hollow tapping his foot impatiently.

"Uh... R-Rasgar... Rasgar el Cielo." The words sounded foreign, and he couldn't really get the syllables to bend the way he wanted them to, but the Hollow was silent.

 ** _Rasgar el Cielo... Tear the sky, eh?_**

The name had fit perfectly in the Hollow's mouth, the accent impeccable, and he grinned his usual splitting crocodile grin. **_Not bad, King. Sounds impressive. I'll take it!_**

 _Good,_ thought Ichigo with some relief. Coming up with names wasn't his style, if Kon's was any indication. He picked up his neglected pencil again, this time with only some distaste, and continued his packet from where he's left off in class.

 _Damn you, Kunieda._

* * *

Kuchiki Rukia stepped into the fresh, sakura-tinted air of Soul Society and _breathed_. The Human World had smoky air that filled her lungs; while Karakura Town had the same clear air as Soul Society did, the cities that she and Ichigo visited the most often to send on souls and purify Hollows had the foulest atmosphere Rukia knew.

Besides the Maggot's Nest. Nothing could beat the Maggot's Nest.

"Rukia."

Kuchiki Byakuya was waiting for his adoptive sister, one hand on the hilt of Senbonzakura. Inwardly, Rukia marvelled. A touch between wielder and zanpaku-tô was more than just laying a hand on the sheath or polishing it; it was sharing the soul and putting each other in regard. Zaraki-taichō did not respect anything or anyone, and that was the main reason he could not hear his zanpaku-tô and why Byakuya held him in disdain.

"Nii-sama," said Rukia cordially, pressing a casual elbow against Sode no Shirayuki's sheath like Byakuya was curling his fingers around Senbonzakura. Sode no Shirayuki laughed, lightly, prettily, one hand covering her pale lips in a ladylike manner, and Rukia lowered her wide violet eyes to the zanpaku-tô and smiled.

"Let us make our leave," nodded Byakuya. He tucked his scarf in and exhaled slightly before offering his arm. Rukia looped hers through his and they set off at a brisk pace.

It was a noble practice, though it had fallen out of style. The Kuchiki men would offer their arm to the female, and the two would proceed so at a pace that was neither a jog nor a crawl. Dawdling pace was not appreciated, but a run was unbecoming. Besides, this practice was usually reserved for those directly related to one another, such as brother and sister or mother and son, or with those who were to be married. Though Kuchiki tended to marry those of the same family name in order to keep the bloodline pure, there were some instances of arranged marriages to extend political power or those who committed the unspeakable horror of running off with someone they truly loved.

"How was your visit, Rukia?" Asked Byakuya as they went. He'd been warmer to Rukia as of late, probably because they'd finally secured Ichigo's loyalty to Soul Society, or in the very least, the members of Soul Society whom he respected, Rukia being one of them. This seemed to have made her more appreciatable.

"It was enlightening, nii-sama," she responded agreeably. They didn't really have any idle talk and never beat around the bush. It was always a refreshing change whenever she spoke first to Ichigo and then to Byakuya, or vice versa. "Urahara-san—" she'd quickly learned to address everyone more experienced than her in higher regard than herself when around Byakuya, "—has provided some interesting alternate theories regarding the Gikongan Theorem of Kurotsuchi-taichō and gigais to create more customized inhabitants of them, in order to make separation much less noticeable and to have Shinigami keep that customized gikon for the duration of their career."

"That is an interesting proposition, indeed," mused Byakuya thoughtfully. "I suppose we'll have to elaborate further, but until then, I do believe I will support it. And how fares..." He stopped for a moment, then pronounced the name with as icily as possible. "...Kurosaki?"

Rukia hesitated, but then spoke heavily. Byakuya was the closest thing she had to a maternal figure, and it was human tendency to warm considerably to those of whom represent a parent. "He... He is strange, nii-sama. He has an... an _aversion_ to anything Soul Society-related. No, he is not bitter, nii-sama," she amended hurriedly when Byakuya looked like he was about to say something subtly insulting. "Ichigo is not the type to be bitter. Nor is he angry. He has just..." She struggled, trying to find a word that would properly describe Ichigo's countenance. "I do not know how to describe it... It is like he has built a wall between himself and Soul Society, nii-sama."

Byakuya's expression melted for a moment faster than Rukia could blink, then it was gone, but it had definitely been there. "I see. So he has been broken beyond repair."

"Nii-sama?" Said Rukia uncertainly.

"He has blocked us because seeing us is too painful. He wants to detain the agony of having his life torn from his grasp, his ability to protect being ripped from his hands, at any cost possible. Even if it means he no longer trusts us, no longer relies on us."

Rukia sucked in a breath. Byakuya's insight was wholly valuable, and it explained Ichigo's attitude as of late. His nightmares, his avoidance of spending more than two days with another Shinigami, et cetera. Because he had sacrificed everything for them only to see turned backs and treachery, because he'd lost his heart of gold with the moment the swallowtail butterfly flew through the wall, he was doing everything he could to prevent history from repeating itself.

Ichigo was afraid.


	2. A Snowball's Chance in Hell

Dancing with Death

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A Snowball's Chance in Hell

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. The manga belongs to Tite Kubo and publishers. The anime belongs to Tite Kubo and specified studios. This is a fanmade piece and I do not profit in any way, shape, of form from writing this story.**

 **Summary: Ichigo has finally returned to the Shinigami lifestyle he's always loved. But when a striking reincarnation of his most reviled enemy appears, Ichigo must try his best to make sure he doesn't follow the path his look-alike did, and all is not what it seems, for God is not the only puppetmaster pulling the strings.**

 **I'm pretty happy with the response Chapter One: _Catharsis_ has received. 12 hours in and I got 2 favorites and 3 followers. Yay!**

 **Many thank yous and cookies (::) for iliveformangaandanime as the first reviewer! (So do I :3)**

 **K. Ichigo kinda goes crazy in this chappie. He goes sorta OOC, but I get the feeling this would happen if Ichigo ever crossed the line into hysteria. Rasgar el Cielo might have sprinkled some of his magic influence to provoke this, but it was mainly shock and PTSD.**

 **I'm trying to push my heart and soul into chapters because NeoRyu777 is amazing inspiration and reading just one chapter is enough to get my blood going. In fact, my fingers are tingling right now.**

 **No super-long AN this time. Just nice long reading.**

 **See you on the other side!**

* * *

Kisuke snapped his fan shut and eyed the three in his sitting room with some resignation. As he'd suspected, Ichigo was not among them. He'd been avoiding them of late; not the frantic avoidance of someone caught in the headlights, but one with a more timid shade, as though he had half a mind to keep away from them but perfectly courteous when coming across them. He figured he should inquire after his whereabouts anyway, since they might have tried to convince him to come along and only aggravated the open wound further.

"And where's our good Substitute Shinigami today?" Asked Kisuke genially, and carefully studied the three's reactions. Years in the Onmitsukidō, years of reading tells and exploiting them, years of having to stay a hundred feet ahead of the game had made him better, faster at flipping through the pages that was a person. Uryū, of course, had no reaction; the boy was better at stifling his reactions than even Soi Fon. Chad was deadpan most of the time, and all he did was exchange glances with the Quincy. Orihime, however, pursed her lips, her wide dark eyes narrowing and flickering towards the closed door. Kisuke sighed as a light weight covered with fur leaped nimbly onto his shoulder.

"I thought as much," he mumbled, tilting his head so that his hat shifted to cover his eyes. He heard Orihime huff, and Uryū's glasses click, then Yoruichi's low feline voice. "Don't leave them in the dark like that, Kisuke. You'll only end up hurting Ichigo." _He's weaker than he was then, emotionally. It's not that fair, is it?_

"I suppose so, Yoruichi-san." _He's already broken, Yoruichi-san. Hurt. It's never been fair._

"It's only an assumption on my part, but Kurosaki's been keeping away from here, hasn't he?" Queried Uryū. Kisuke moved back to take in the Quincy. The white bandages peeking out from the corner of his shirt and rolling over his collarbone shielded the fading scars from sight. His clever blue eyes shot right towards Kisuke's own, in a deadlock, and the harsh intelligence in them cut straight to Kisuke's heart, stopping just shy of it.

Kisuke hid a small, sad smile. Uryū would be good for the Onmitsukidō even if he didn't know it. His gaze could strip a person to their core layer by layer, and his cunning was nearly infallible. It was only because that Kisuke had had over a hundred years to build wall after wall after wall over his heart, a veritable fortress surrounded by a fortress surrounded by yet another, that Uryū couldn't see all the way through. His vision was only so clear, after all.

"You are correct, Ishida-san," he admitted. Yoruichi swiftly jumped off of his shoulder and onto the table before curling up on it. Orihime, mindful of the werecat lying three inches from the tea set, carefully poured herself a cup and laced her fingers around it.

"I thought so," said Uryū, sighing. "Kurosaki started to take over every single Hollow run since a few weeks ago. He doesn't let us go, and he doesn't even try to tell us when he's leaving. We only realize when Hollow reiatsu disappears from the map. He's taking responsibility for _everything_."

Kisuke blinked. He hadn't known that. He had simply assumed that the group had been more uptight with the security than usual. He'd stopped testing the lingering reiatsu laying thick on the streets because he had decided not to do any more reiatsu testing for the time being, and evidently, this was his mistake. Had he snatched even one sample of the Hollow reiatsu residue, he'd have known what Ichigo was doing.

"God," sighed Yoruichi from the table, stretching. "I didn't think be would, but he's barricaded himself."

"What?" Said Orihime, startled. Uryū closed his eyes and turned to her, several explanations ready on his lips (two of which weren't even the real answer). Orihime was quite insightful, but she didn't understand the surface of someone. She was better at sensing underlying emotions. Before he'd even opened his mouth, however, Orihime cut him off with a nigh-impatient "Not that, Ishida-kun!"

The response was so vehement that Uryū drew back, just as startled as Orihime. Mainly he was bewildered at the fact that Orihime had correctly assumed what his answer was going to be.

"I mean..." She blushed, prettily, embarrassed by her own outburst, but continued fiercely. "Kurosaki-kun has people he respects in the Seireitei, even people he loves. Why would he keep away from them, as well?"

Uryū opened his mouth, then closed it, looking for all the world like a fish out of water. That hadn't occurred to him. Orihime's perceptive power was truly awe-inspiring.

"There's something in that," agreed Kisuke easily. "But Kurosaki-san has what we shall call—"

"A hero complex," inserted Yoruichi immediately. Chad snorted.

Kisuke pressed his lips together in the effort not to smirk, composed himself, and continued: "He tends to feel that everything that goes wrong is his fault, and that he must shoulder the weight of the world."

There was a grim silence, then Chad broke it by saying in a surprised voice, "Ichigo's outside."

Kisuke leaped to his feet, gathered up his robes, and bounded out of the room. Everyone was certain he would come careening back in—Ichigo did have a bone to pick with the shopkeeper, after all—but instead he walked back in following Ichigo, who entered calmly, with a kind of purposeful air bound about him.

Favoring his right side.

Everyone was immediately on guard.

"Urahara-san," said Ichigo, very evenly. The flat tone of his voice only alarmed the others further. Uryū leaned forward, scrutinizing every part of the Substitute Shinigami, trying to find the wound that he was surely hiding. Orihime's hands flew up to her temples, to her pins, though subtly, ready for the first sign of distress. Chad's hands visibly curled into fists, and he studied his oldest friend carefully, watching for any weakness.

However, Ichigo duly ignored them, his eyes steadily reaching Kisuke's. "I-I need to open a Senkaimon."

"A Senkaimon?"

"A Senkaimon! _Now!_ " Barked the teen. Kisuke stared at him, half dubiously, half with something impossible to identify, for a moment, before reaching out, gripping Benihime, and sliding the zanpaku-tô into the invisible keyhole. The Senkaimon blew open with the usual black-hole feeling of being sucked in, and Ichigo staggered heavily, nearly toppling headlong into it, but he snatched his arm away when Yoruichi moved to steady him in concern.

"Don't fucking _touch me!_ " He yelled, succeeding only in terrifying the rest more. Orihime sat back, stifling a sob behind her cupped hands.

"Kurosaki-san!" Cried Kisuke, trying to soothe the crazed Shinigami, closing the Senkaimon. "Please, calm yourself!"

"You want me to _calm the fuck down_ , huh?" Shouted Ichigo, a wild, feral light in his eyes that had never once been there before, and then gave a chilling bit of insane laughter. "I can't! Not when I just got _mauled_ by a fucking _Arrancar_ —" a loud gasp from Orihime, "—and I was _caught off guard_ and he nearly took my fucking head off and _all I see_ when I close my eyes nowadays is that _damned_ wannabe god that I _put down_ like a _dog_ and now all I'll think is he's after me again, after my friends and my family and now they're all gonna die one by one _all because of me—_ "

 _Thwack_.

Yoruichi removed her hand from the back of Ichigo's neck where she'd hit to knock him out. The boy slumped down, caught by Kisuke, whose eyes widened slightly when his hand met the area just below his ribs. He gently laid Ichigo down and shifted Ichigo's shihakushô to the side.

"Oh, shit!" Hissed Yoruichi upon seeing the gaping wound residing there. Orihime quickly summoned her Shun Shun Rikka and murmured, "Sôten Kisshun, I reject!" in a shaking voice.

"Oh, dear," said Kisuke with narrowed eyes and a lowered brim. "An Arrancar attacked him when Aizen's in Muken? I think it's time..." Kisuke's gray eyes met Yoruichi's golden ones, "...To go on a little investigation."

* * *

Hirako Shinji stared at the miles-high pile of paperwork looming over him condemningly. The Fifth Division captain sighed as he dipped his brush into his ink. Or no, not his ink.

The calligraphy set was his past lieutenant's.

A sour taste filled his mouth at the thought, a coppery scent that reminded him rather brutally of blood, of the Hollow that lurked behind his eyes, wearing his face like an actor wears a mask. Even now the Hollow brooded behind the façade that made up Shinji's body. It was something all of the Vizards felt, a kind of curling serpent of darkness, a necessary evil that they had all once defeated and buried deep within their souls and caged them there. There were permanent changes to go along with that, of course; Shinji's thin toothy crocodile grin and Hiyori's burning hatred for everything that surrounded her were two very individual examples but examples nontheless.

He glanced at the empty lieutenant's desk sitting a couple feet away and stifled another sigh. His would-be lieutenant—Hinamori Momo—was lying in the Fourth Division for over what was nearly a year now after a relapse during which she attacked and wounded Kira Izuru and Hitsugaya Tôshirô "in the name of Captain Aizen", she had screamed. She was sedated, but she had quickly burned out her meager amount of reiryoku in her fight and had was now struggling to live.

It didn't help that it was, in the end, Tôshirô himself who crushed Momo under the weight of his reiatsu, which threw his own life into danger, as she had dealt a fatal blow to him early in the battle and it was slowly leeching off of his reiryoku. Even now, his soul had a jagged scar that refused to heal.

Shinji knew what was coming. As soon as the date she lay comatose in the Fourth marked her for over a year, Retsu would pull aside her closest living relation and speak with them about pulling her off of life-support. That would be Tôshirô.

He didn't think life could be this cruel.

"Yo, Shinji-taichō."

Shinji looked up upon hearing his name, and offered his aforementioned grin to the older woman who had entered, his Third Seat Makiba Kotori. She had been Third Seat for over one hundred years now, and had been Shinji's loyal Fourth Seat before his untimely "demise".

"Hi, Makiba-san," greeted Shinji easily, tilting his chair back and waving his brush lazily in her direction—and earning a leather-bound book in the face for his troubles.

"Do your paperwork, young man!" She scolded, reminiscent of a mother compelling her child to do their homework. "I swear, I've been a Shinigami for centuries and never have I known a captain lazier than you!"

"Kyouraku-jii!" Said Shinji immediately, and another embossed cover was hurled at his face. "Shut it, Shinji! Address your elders with respect!"

"...Fair enough," said Shinji after struggling with his conscience for a few moments. Kotori picked up on it, and after a small silence, she said gently, "Are you thinking about Hinamori-chan?"

Shinji didn't even bother being surprised. Kotori's mind-reading had long since stopped shocking him. "Yeah."

"What's done is done, Shinji," said Kotori presently, picking up the the duster she had brought in from the barracks and busied herself with the empty and grimy lieutenant's desk. "Aizen has left his mark on Soul Society, so we must do our best to cleanse it. But..." She paused on her way out, then turned and raised her brows at Shinji wryly. "Some scars never heal."

* * *

 _White sands, black skies, with stars scattered across them like the sprinkles that Yuzu puts on her cupcake frosting..._

 _Espada, with long limbs and angry faces and swords curved and bloody, an executioner's..._

 _Aizen, brown hair and rimmed glasses and kind eyes with burning artifice... Aizen... Aizen..._

 _AIZEN!_

 _He was walking down the street, because Karin had demanded he go outside and buy the over-excess of cinnamon sugar that Yuzu needed to make her favorite bundt cake in time for the next day. He paused—he could have sworn he sensed Arrancar reiatsu—but of course there weren't any more, not after the Winter War. He continued on, whistling, with his shopping bag in hand, ignoring the pang in his heart as he though of Nelliel, the amusement in his smile when he thought of Grimmjow, the paralyzing agony in his chest when he thought of Ulquiorra._

 _Suddenly, a spear was protruding right through his side._

 _He turned back, his pupils blown wide, blood spurting from his closed lips, and an Arrancar was there, dripping blood and covered in lacerations. The Hollow-Shinigami hybrid grinned despite the scarlet staining him everywhere, and cackled hoarsely, "So you're the famous Ku-ro-sa-ki I-chi-go! You ain't much!"_

 _Instinct kicked in before training and Ichigo didn't even know what happened in the next thirty seconds, as it was a complete blur, but the next thing he knew he was human again, the Arrancar dead on the road beside him, clutching his balled sweater to his wound with a kind of desperation he didn't know he had within him._

 _Urahara-san's Urahara-san's Urahara-san's._

 _He'd long since classified Urahara-san's as "safe"._

 _I can hide there and I'll be safe._

 _And then rage bubbled up in his throat as he stumbled towards the very place he was thinking of._

 _Damn the Soul Society! Why didn't they tell him? There was no way they didn't know!_

 _He had to go to the Seireitei—talk to someone, anyone. Demand the explanation he'd been denied long before._

 _They had betrayed him—just as they had two years ago..._

"...He said he wanted a Senkaimon. He was quite... Vehement... about it."

"Wanted... Or needed?"

"'I need to open a Senkaimon' were the exact words, Isshin-san."

Ichigo garnered from this snippet of conversation he'd eavesdropped on that he had demanded a Senkaimon... "Which I still want, by the way."

"K-Kurosaki!" Stuttered Uryū, and all notions of subtlety wasted were worth the look of shock on his face. Combined with the fact that he hadn't moved his glasses higher on his nose for the last couple minutes added to the hilarity of his face, and Ichigo managed a snort before Kisuke descended on him.

"Kurosaki-san, what was that? What did you see? What—"

Ichigo was quickly smothered by both the overeager shopkeeper and an overly concerned Orihime, and over the hubbub that his father, Kisuke, and the aforementioned girl were causing, he yelped, "Holy shit! Let me talk!"

Promptly the crowd dispersed, much to Ichigo's utter bewilderment. It was as though they'd thought he'd explode. He coughed a bit to break the awkward moment and said (hoarsely, damn that cough), "Urahara-san, one question at a fucking time! For the Gotei's sake..." He muttered indignantly.

* * *

In Soul Society, the entirety of the Gotei Thirteen sneezed. It was a very frantic day.

* * *

Kisuke's lips twitched at Ichigo's choice of simile, but cleared his throat and asked, "Kurosaki-san, when you walked in, you said you were 'mauled by an Arrancar'."

Ichigo froze, lacing his fingers into the sheets of the futon. "W-what?"

Kisuke's frown deepened. "Kurosaki-san—"

"Ichigo."

One hand came up to the back of his neck, anchoring him to reality, and the other to Ichigo's shoulder. "Stay calm."

Kisuke gaped at the tall, cloaked stranger that had suddenly appeared in his shop, and at how much ease the man displayed at grounding the Substitute Shinigami. _Who is this?_

"Zangetsu..." That hinted to Zangetsu that something was wrong. Ichigo never addressed him by just his name. It was always "Old man Zangetsu", and no matter how many times he told himself he hated it, he ended up getting attached to the boy. It wasn't a good idea, never was a good idea to be wielded... But Ichigo had a way with him, and damn Zangetsu's paternal instincts.

"...I'm fine," said Ichigo finally, uncurling from where he'd pressed against Zangetsu's side, wincing when Zangetsu's shoulder brushed against his wound. "Ow."

"Sorry."

Zangetsu dispersed into a black fog of reiatsu, eerily identical to Ichigo's own, leaving said substitute to explain. "Uh, the Ar—" he cringed, then covered it up by rubbing his neck unconvincingly, missing the significant look everyone else exchanged. "The guy that attacked me. Right."

He took a deep breath and looked back up at the occupants of the room. They trailed over everyone's eyes and finally met Uryū's dispassionate ones, and just because they were the easiest to take—if he and Orihime's sweet, kind gray eyes met one more time he swore he would break down—he stared into the cold blue orbs to just run through his previously prepared spiel.

"Well, I think I'm gonna avoid the alleyways from now on..."

"You already should have in the first place, idiot."

"Shut the fuck up, Ishida."

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi was lying on his back, staring up at the inky-black sky. His ceiling had been destroyed five weeks previously, but he hadn't bothered with setting it back up if it was going to go down again anyway. Besides, fresh air was good for the soul.

Yachiru laughed, a long, tinkling giggle. "You always think aloud, Ken-chan!" She tapped her unblemished left cheek with a delicate finger. "How is fresh air good for us?"

Kenpachi grunted. "Well, ain't it a big man's right to be all mysterious an' shit?" His eyes trailed to his adoptive daughter, who would be going on thirteen in the next couple of years if she were human. As it was, she had begun to mature, though her hyperactive personality would never change.

Yachiru's wide pink eyes glittered as she thought. It was one of her most charming features, thought Kenpachi approvingly. He had compiled a good long list in his head of the wonderful little things that his little girl did, and the "sparkly-eyes" was one of them. It gave her a kind of glow, particularly around other people. She was eye-catching.

"Hey, 'Chiru," he said presently. Yachiru glanced at the Eleventh Division captain from her seat right beside him on the terrace. "Yeah, Ken-chan?"

"Ya know 'bout the Hinamori an' Hitsugaya problem comin' 'round, don't'cha?"

Yachiru nodded, her expression quickly shifting to serious. "Yeah," she said. "Braid-chan is gonna have Peach-chan die if she stays too long in the Fourth!"

Kenpachi grimaced. It was brutal when Yachiru put it like that. He was used to the gore of death, the blood and adrenaline of it. A death in a cold white sterilized room surrounded by indifferent "caretakers" seemed wrong in his battle-worn mind.

"Yeah," he grunted, glaring up at the endless sky with misplaced animosity.

"And she has to tell to the person Peach-chan likes the most, so she has to tell Snowball-chan to let Peach-chan die!"

"Mm-hmm."

"Ken-chan, you're worried, aren't you?"

Kenpachi bared his teeth in a cynical grin when he realized that yes, he was worried. Poor Hinamori. Poor _Hitsugaya_. He'd never really felt any empathy for either, but this was the Gotei's business, and the more it was discussed, the more he felt for them. It was despicable, what Aizen had done, and everyone was suffering for it. Retsu had said Momo might recover, but it was a fool's errand to convince Tôshirô of it. He knew very well that there was a snowball's chance in Hell of Momo ever opening her eyes again. He'd taken to silence, and no one had the ability to make him speak. Except for Retsu, and when she spoke to him, he was frantic.

 _"How's Momo?!"_

 _"Will she live?!"_

 _"Is Momo going to be okay?!"_

 _"Please, Unohana-taichō!"_

 _"Save her!"_

Hinamori Momo, who would soon leave this world.

Hitusgaya Tôshirô, who would soon decide her fate.

Kenpachi narrowed his eyes.

A snowball's chance in Hell, indeed.


End file.
